A Christmas Eve Waiting Room Crisis...Averted

Merry Christmas to all my friends and family! We have had a nice holiday weekend, and although Cory headed back to San Francisco last night, he will be coming home tomorrow in time for the anniversary.

Our Christmas day was fun and quiet. For me, a successful Christmas means that I stay in my pajamas...all day...so this year was first-rate.

However, as much as I love to stay in my jammies on Christmas...every year I have a deep psychological need to go do something on Christmas Eve. Something that does not include any kind of shopping! Often, in past years, we have gone to the movies on Christmas Eve. This is fun, but this year there wasn't really anything our whole family was interested in seeing. This new family phase we're in means we have little kids and near teenagers...and neither the interests of the twain shall meet. So this year, I suggested ice skating instead. It was great! It felt so good to get out and do something physical. Anna loved being swished around the rink with Dad on one side and me on the other. The boys picked it up fairly quickly. I found myself smiling non-stop. There's something about feeling clumsy and on the verge of crashing at all times that brings a smile to my face I guess.

After about an hour on the ice, I said to Cory, "This is great! I think we should make this a new family tradition." As we rounded the corner, we noticed Zachary and Noah on the side. We stopped to see if they were okay and discovered that Noah had slipped and split his chin open.

We managed to get the whole tribe out in the lobby to look at the cut more closely, and determined it would likely need stitches. Cory called his friend who happens to work in the ER of the hospital across the street from the rink to see if he was working that day. I took the other 3 children back to the ice for a promised "one last time around." When I got back, Cory said his friend was not working, but that he was heading to his parents' house in Sandy for Christmas Eve and told us to meet him there so he could stitch it up for us.

What? No endless wait in an emergency room waiting area to ruin what had started out as a delightful family holiday? What a blessing! Thanks Koy! You are the best! Maybe next year we'll go back to the movies.

Counting Blessings

It's too close to Christmas to leave my last, complaining entry up so today I choose to acknowledge the blessings of the past few days.

Our family was given the challenge on November 1st to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. That's fast. Really fast. But I can number two blessings in just this week that have only happened because of this invitation. The first happened, when I went to Noah's class Christmas party. The kids were sitting quietly in their classroom reading while the moms got everything ready for the party. I looked over, and my 10-year-old son had brought his scriptures to school so that he could "catch up." I was both surprised and impressed...what a blessing for him and for me. I can certainly learn from his example. The second blessing came on Monday afternoon, as I was cleaning the kitchen and Zachary and I had a great discussion about what he had just read from the Book of Mormon. It was casual and simple, but somehow profound. What a blessing to share this with my children this holiday season.

Last night, I drove the youth downtown in the middle of a snowstorm to deliver our wrapped Sub for Santa gifts. We brought our loads into a small apartment...smaller than the first apartment Cory and I lived in when we got married. This family has somehow squeezed 4 children into this space, with another baby due in February. That alone turned my earlier bitterness into sheepishness. There's so much I take for granted. But they had such a kind, humble, grateful and HAPPY feeling in their home. It was a blessing to meet them.

Then, when I got home late from dropping the girls off, I came home to an anonymously shoveled driveway. This is no small blessing, because when I left last evening at 6:45, there were 8 inches and it snowed the whole time we were gone. At first I thought Zachary had done it, because his Sub for Santa group got home before mine, but he said the driveway was still covered when he got home. Our kind elf works fast.

Especially today I am grateful that Cory will be home tonight and tomorrow we can pull our family together and talk and sing together about the real reason for this holiday. Because He is my greatest blessing.

Bah Humbug, Last-Minute Travel Edition

Timeline of Christmas events in the Talbot household...

Thursday, December 17, 3:14 p.m. The FINAL Christmas purchase is in my hands.

Thursday, 4:45 p.m. Everything is officially wrapped.

Thursday, 4:46 p.m. Call Cory and brag that everything is done!

Thursday, 4:47 p.m. Cory shares the great news that he taking the entire next week off.

Thursday, 5:00 p.m. Prepare dinner and beam at wonderful children...take a sip of their Christmas excitement.

Thursday, 6:02 p.m. Cory calls with news of possible travel to San Francisco.

Thursday, 6:14 p.m. Cory calls to say he's on his way home...to pack. He's leaving for the airport in the morning, will be back late Saturday night, will leave again Monday and be back on Christmas Eve.

Thursday, 6:15 p.m. come fairly close to an expletive.

Saturday, December 19 Grouchy, mean mom rules supreme.

Sunday, December 20 Cory shares the news he will now also be traveling December 28-30. Our anniversary is December 29. Spitting ensues.

I'm trying to find the cheerful, funny, unselfish way to look at all of this, but it's not happening. Too mad. Everyone pray for my kids.

Sub For Santa

Every year, the youth in our ward (neighborhood church group) participate in a December service project to provide Christmas gifts to needy families in Salt Lake City.


Every year, from Thanksgiving forward, the church bulletin asks for contributions from church members young and old..our leaders talk about it in our meetings and interviews..the youth are reminded to contribute as well. It's a nice tradition.


In our 2 1/2 years in the neighborhood, I've been vaguely aware of this annual event. Admittedly, I have always had good intentions to contribute but as a terminal procrastinator have sometimes missed the deadline. This year was different. This year I was in charge.


I coordinated with a woman in my neighborhood who is currently serving a mission to help families in inner-city Salt Lake. She helped identify 5 families with extra need this year. Then, with the help of my bishop (church leader) I divided up the donations and put cash in envelopes designated for all 23 people on our list. We handed the cash to youth leaders and sent them out with young men and women aged 12-18 to shop for specific individuals. Each child had prepared a wish list...most of them humbling. They asked for things like warm pajamas, socks, and a jingle bell.


At this stage, my inexperience in this process became apparent. I sent each group out with one kitchen garbage bag to put their purchased gifts in. Here are the gifts we ended up with...

We needed a few more bags.

It was wonderful to see the enthusiasm in the young people as they looked for the "perfect" gift. Then a week later, those same enthusiastic youth showed up to wrap presents for 2 hours. This week, we will load up in cars and drive downtown to make a special delivery.

As I have planned and coordinated the details of this event, my primary objective has been for the young people to have a meaningful experience. I'm impressed my how motivated, unselfish, and service-minded this generation can be. So far their example has been far more meaningful for me than anything I have done for their benefit.

Nutcracker...Again

Last weekend was Anna's second debut in the "Children's Nutcracker." This year she was upgraded from "mouse" to "doll." Still very cute, but I must say that the mice once again stole the show...especially when in the middle of their performance, one little mouse made her way to the front of the stage and very calmly, and cheerfully called out, "Mom? Mom? Hey...Mom?"

My little dolly was the star of the night for me. She was very excited that Daddy brought her pink roses this year, and Mommy gave her a present...ballet slippers Christmas tree ornament, and a teeny-tiny pink doll for our sweet Anna-doll.

M.I.A.

I'd like to tell you a story about how grateful I am at this time of year, as my family sat down together to celebrate another bountiful Thanksgiving. But I can't, because I am just way too busy, shopping, cleaning, cooking, and eating. I've got two words for you...ten pies.

So I'd like to tell you a story about how fun it is to have wonderful friends come all the way from Phoenix to spend a whirlwind week in my home. Ooh, but I can't, because I stayed up way too late every night they were here, and I still haven't gotten around to all the laundry since they left.

In that case, I'll tell you the story about a week where every day I had to call a repairman of one kind or another. But I won't...because...it's just too expensive.

Maybe you'd settle for the plain old boring story about another round of colds making it's way through my household. I'll get to that when I stop feeling so crummy.

Guess you'll have to settle with the story about how my Christmas decorations are all up, my shopping is all done, and my packages are all mailed. That's a good one. Too bad it's fiction.

In the meantime...I'm hanging in there. I hope you are too.

Another Noah Birthday

Noah's birthday came and went with relatively little notice in my life last week. It just so happened to fall on a Tuesday night...I have Young Women activities on Tuesday...and it just so happened that this particular Tuesday was also YW in Excellence-a kind of recognition night for the girls 12-18 in my ward (Church denomination). So poor Noah kind of got shuffled to the back of responsibilities that day. I did manage to bring a special lunch and eat with him at school. I did not find the time to cook a special birthday dinner so Dad picked up his favorite pizza on the way home from work. I did make a chocolate birthday cake with chocolate frosting. (Only those people who know how much I hate chocolate cake and chocolate frosting will appreciate the amount of self-sacrifice this entails.) I did not make it home in time to watch him blow out the candles. I did choose some fun gifts for him. I did not actually purchase them, but left that to Dad via his pizza delivery route. Fortunately, Noah is such a sensible, responsible, cheerful person that none of this bothered him in the slightest and he still had a nice day for his golden birthday. (He turned 10 on the 10th!)

For the sake of record-keeping, I'm going to acknowledge all things Noah at this age in his life.
Favorite color: blue
Favorite food: any type of seafood
Favorite flavor of birthday cake: chocolate, chocolate, chocolate (really, it's not fair that 5 out of 6 birthdays around here I have to make a chocolate cake.)
Favorite hobby: READING! (He reads an entire book almost every day)
Favorite sports team: BYU
Favorite sport to play: basketball
Best friend: Jaden
Current obsession: The "Warriors" series, and passing off all his times tables before anyone else in class
Favorite subject in school: P.E.
Quality in Noah that I am most grateful for: Responsibility...he's the only one in the house who doesn't need to be reminded to get his chores done, who never loses things, and who actually comes to me with school stuff that needs to be signed instead of leaving it to me to dig out of his backpack 3 weeks past the deadline.
Cool things accomplished this year: He earned a superior at AIM, his annual piano adjudication. He sang a solo (beautifully) in the Primary Program, he had perfect grades every quarter of the last year, he scored a touchdown at every single flag football game this year, he earned his Bear in Cub Scouts, he placed 3rd in high jump at his summer track meet

Tool Day

As I sit in my office typing, a whirl of falling leaves keep drawing my attention to the window. The fall in Utah has been spectacular this year. After living in a land of no Autumn for so many years it came as something of a revelation my first year in Utah that I had missed this season somewhere deep in my sub-concious. As papery, brittle leaves of yellow and bronze keep flapping across my peripheral vision, it feels like a metaphor for my life this week. I am blowing in so many directions that it feels almost out of control. But despite the wild nature of my frenzy, there is something beautiful in the commotion. Life is full; making goals, meeting demands, entering the fray.

Last month, I got the annual flyer/request for "Tool Day" from the Elementary School. Every year, they invite parents to come to the school and talk to students about their careers and tools of the trade. We have never participated, so guilt started prickling at the back of my neck. I began my campaign to get Cory into the school. As I prepared to discuss this with him, knowing how busy his work schedule is right now, I realized that I have a career too. In some twisted version of women's liberation reflex, I signed up to come share with 4 classrooms the tricks of my trade as a homemaker. Little did I realize that the week of presentation would coincide with the perfect storm of family events, rehearsals, and deadlines.

Still, I had made a commitment, so Tuesday morning found me gathering up my "tools" and heading down the hill to Oak Hollow Elementary. I shared with them the perils of a career in homemaking...no vacations, long hours, very few promotions. I let them handle the tools of my business...dust rags, measuring cups, first aid kits, checkbooks, the burgeoning calendar. And somewhere about halfway through my 2nd presentation, I realized something. I have been so caught up in the pressures and "busy-ness" of my day to day survival that I have begun to forget something important. I love my job.

Pinewood Derby

Last week was our annual Cub Scout Pinewood Derby. For anyone who has never had the privilege of participating in this boyhood rite of passage, I am here to tell you what you are missing.

1. 1 month to get the car finished, and yet 99.9 percent of the work gets done the night before.

2. Blowdryers running right up until the minute we leave to dry the paint job.

3. 8-year-olds executing feats of engineering around the level of the average M.I.T. student.

4. Fathers insisting that their scout really did most of the work themselves.

5. 30 families crammed around a 20 foot race track.

6. 30 dads discussing the finer points of "bracket-ology."

7. And the noise, oh the noise!

8. 250 lectures...MOM: You need to be a good sport even if you win/lose

9. WINNING CUB SCOUT: niener, niener, niener

10. LOSING CUB SCOUT: tears

11. 2 hours of chaos and pandemonium in order to watch your son's car race exactly twice for a total of 7 seconds.

12. Awards Ceremony..every car gets a certificate..even if it means awarding a prize for "most creative use of duct tape."

13. After the hours of work, and the meaningful award, car and certificate have disappeared--never to be seen again--within 24 hours.

14. Next year we get to make 2 cars.

What will I do when all my little cub scouts are grown? There's nothing quite like the spectacle of grown men competing vicariously through their sons. Despite the madness of the event, I really will miss this someday.

Feline-anthropy

Meet Grendel.

He is loyal, affectionate, and despite the threatening look of his underbite..gentle. I am the sun about which he orbits. He daily aspires to simply lay at my feet. When I say jump, he says, how high. He would throw himself in front of a bullet for me.

And here is Cheezit. He is superior, aloof and infinitely bored. He interacts with me on his terms only. He allows me to feed him and occasionally to pet him.

So why is it, I like the cat so much more than the dog? I guess I'm that girl who always liked the guy who wasn't really interested. Figures.

It also doesn't hurt that the cat is the only other creature in my home who can clean himself.

ADHD Awareness Week

This week CHADD is sponsoring an ADHD awareness week. Raising a child with ADHD is a trial not just because they have special and challenging needs, but also because the mountains of misinformation and misunderstanding that are out there to add an extra staggering burden. When I hear other mothers say things like, "My nephew has ADHD, but really his parents just don't ever discipline him," or "People just use ADHD as an excuse to medicate their children so they don't have to be a real parent," I want to cry. (I have heard both statements verbatim and in other variations more times than I can count.) I try not to be too sensitive, but there is an intrinsic loneliness that is part of my experience. If I told someone my son had Diabetes, they would respond with compassion; often when I mention I'm dealing with ADHD I can feel underlying judgment and cynicism. Can you imagine how you would feel if you said to someone, "My child has asthma," and they responded by saying, "Oh, that is so over-diagnosed?"

So, as a public service to all 3 of you who read my blog, I'm listing a helpful website to hopefully draw attention to this disorder and help you become more informed. Information is power! As many as 1 in 10 children is affected by this, so it wouldn't hurt for us all to learn a little something about it. CHADD is a non-profit organization committed to research, support, and understanding of children and adults dealing with ADHD. Do me a favor and look them up. http://www.chadd.org At the very least, keep an open mind, and try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. And the next time you come across a mom who mentions her struggles with ADHD, offer her support and sympathy without judgment.

Now I will step off the soapbox and return to my regular blog programming.

Finding Myself in the Living History Farm

The canning of peaches is officially behind me now, so I can devote a minute to something else...before I pick up the tomatoes tomorrow.

I still have vacation stories to tell. Shortly after our arrival in Des Moines, my mother-in-law took us to visit the Living History Farm near where she lives. It's an outdoor museum of agriculture that traces the history of farming practices from the earliest Native American settlements through the present day. Okay, I just read my last sentence, and I was asleep with boredom by the end. This place is the very opposite of boring. You walk along a loop of land where they have set up real working farms from different periods of history. There are actors at each place to tell you about their "lives" from other centuries and to provide hands-on opportunities. It's absorbing and fascinating.

In the 1850s farm, this man introduced us to his oxen...and their ear wax. Apparently this was used as an early form of lip balm. My boys especially enjoyed this particular nugget of information.

I was particularly affected by the 1900 Farm.

In 1904 my grandfather was born in Cardiff, Kansas. I have seen pictures of his family's farmstead from this period of time. To come across this tidy little barn and home at a museum in Iowa was both foreign and familiar.

And although I fear coming across as overly sentimental, I somehow felt more connected to both my grandfather.. and to my grandmother who was born 13 years later in Ponca, Nebraska but who must have lived a rural life very much like the one depicted in this faithful simulation.

Here in the parlor of the farmhome, it was hot and humid. I could almost imagine the life of my ancestors as they sat in here on a summer Sunday afternoon, swatting flies.

The kids enjoyed visiting the animals in the barn, and trying out the early farm equipment. We even walked past the stump where the "famers" had beheaded a chicken for their meal that afternoon. It's all very authentic. When we toured the home, the women were in the kitchen washing dishes with water they brought in from the well.

And though I'm grateful to live in a time of dishwashers and drive-throughs, I enjoyed finding myself in my own family past for a day.

And They're Off!

I still have a couple of entries to write about our end of summer marathon trip, but the kids all have started back to school now, and I thought I'd better post while the posting was good.

In other news, the peaches in our trees have started dropping onto the ground so it's back to Canning Season. So, yeah, I'm getting 4 kids back to school in the middle of a sticky peachy mess...I don't really recommend it.

Zachary started junior high last Wednesday.

He has to get up pretty early in the morning so that Dad can drive him at 7:00. This worked out fine for 3 days, and then the novelty wore off. This morning, his alarm went off at 6:30. At 6:45 I came in from my run and it was still going off...he slept right through. Still, he feels like pretty big stuff. It's a new school and he doesn't know a single person, but it hasn't fazed him. Hopefully he'll make some friends and figure out the ropes quickly.

Noah has a brand new teacher in her very first year of teaching. After meeting her at Meet the Teacher Night, I think this will prove to be both good and bad. Boundless enthusiasm...zero experience...you do the math.

Isaac started school 2 days before the rest of the kids. He and Anna both got into a Charter School, so it's a new school for him this year as well. Luckily, he's such a cheerful, easy-going kid that he has blended right into his classroom already. Although he misses his old friends, for now he says he likes this school better. I know many people have very strong feelings about public school/charter school debates so I choose not to address the hot-button topic for now. Anyway, it's only been a week, so I don't have a long enough experience to weigh in yet.

Anna is heading to her 3rd day of Kindergarten this afternoon. She lo-o-o-oves it! She has a hard time waiting all the long hours until after lunch when she can go. As for me. I have been strangely stoic about the whole thing. This has been the only time I have not cried after dropping off a Kindergartner on the first day. I think I've been anticipating this adjustment for so long that it doesn't seem that hard now that it's here. It helps that she's home with me half the day still. Cory called the first afternoon and asked if I was lonely. I told him she's so independent and quiet while she's at home with me, that it really didn't seem any different while she is gone. Maybe that's just because I'm so busy with peaches. And coming straight from vacation to back to school has made the whole experience a little surreal this year. Anyway, it's hard to feel very sad when she is so happy.

Our State Fair is a Great State Fair

When I planned this marathon trip back in the confines of winter, I had one thing on my agenda: the Iowa State Fair. There are, after all, not one but 2 musicals devoted to this event. This is America's Fair; the fairgrounds comprise an entire town. I feel it is the obligation of every patriotic American to shill out large amounts of money for greasy food and spotty rides.

So early on a Monday morning we found ourselves amidst the great unwashed masses (don't be offended, I'm referring to my children and the pigs...on second thought, the pigs were pretty clean).

I'm proud to say that I fully accomplished my agenda for the day:
1. Visit the barns
2. Eat a pork chop on a stick
3. Check out the winners of the Ugly Cake contest
4. Eat something deep-fried
5. Witness the famous marvel that is the butter cow
6. Eat cotton candy

I think it is very important to set and reach lofty goals.


Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for...will it be a Guernsey, a Holstein? This year's exhibit is the Jersey cow! I'm sure you all know that the Jersey is not as prolific a milk producer as other cows, but her milk has a very high cream content, making it perfect for ice cream, yogurt and cheese. This message was brought to you by the Iowa Dairy Farmers Association...thank you. (Please ignore my hair...I was fighting the war on humidity. I lost. Actually, I surrendered 20 minutes into our Midwest arrival.)

Once we made it through my formidable list of required activities, we were free to enjoy the rest of the unusually mild summer day. I asked the kids what their favorite things were at the end of the day, and of course they all said, "the rides." There's nothing quite like a $4 merry-go-round ride I guess. Although, I will say that the squeaky, rusty, tilting nature of all carnival rides does lend an aspect of daring rarely seen outside a demolition derby.

Zachary and Noah managed to survive the "Reign of Fire" without losing their deep-fried Snickers bar. It was touch and go there for about an hour.

But over-priced, under-inspected rides aside, there were some other highlights as well.

Anna loved the miniature horse show. She tried to convince me that they were small enough to keep in our backyard; we could just tell the neighbors that we got a new dog.

Isaac enjoyed the Wild West roping show we watched in the afternoon. He stayed afterwards to learn how to spin a lasso. He made a pretty respectable showing for a city kid.

Noah got up close and personal with a variety of animals...cows, pigs, horses...and camels... you know, just the standard farm breeds you come to expect in Iowa.

Zachary enjoyed the chance to practice the bored, unenthusiastic scowl of a teenager.

(Can I just say that my favorite part about this picture is the "do not touch" sign?)

Aunt Kim was worried the butter cow would be a let-down after all the hype, but luckily a cow carved entirely out of butter is totally able to meet all your expectations...and more!

I found myself surprisingly delighted with all the homemade food entries...you know...the pies and preserves. There were rows and rows and rows of different categories! It was all so wholesome...like stepping into the 1950s minus the poodle skirts. Sure wish I could have been on the tasting committee!

Cory fulfilled a life-long ambition of trying a deep-fried Twinkie. It was especially entertaining to listen to his arteries clog.

Grandma found the elusive Iowa State Fair, 2009 pin.

Grandpa ran into his missionaries and was able to get his picture with a giant, stuffed Spiderman.

All in all, a succesful outing.

So in conclusion...

Our State Fair is a great state fair
Don't Miss it don't even be late(state fair is great)
It's dollars to doughnuts at our state fair
It's the best state fair.. in our state

Winter Quarters

In the year 1846, members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints were driven from their homes in Nauvoo, Illinois. Church leaders hoped to lead the people across the frontier to a new home in the Salt Lake valley of Utah where they would be free to follow the tenets of their faith without persecution. They had hoped to complete the trek in just 4 months; it took them that long just to cross Iowa. They gained permission to establish a temporary winter settlement for two years. This place--near current Omaha, Nebraska--became known as "Winter Quarters." The people, led by their faith worked quickly to construct hundreds of log cabins and sod homes. Despite their courage and efforts, the winter proved to be devastating to the weakened condition of many people. In the 2 years spent in this temporary staging area for the trek to Utah, over 325 people died from starvation and disease. Only a handful of families were left untouched by death.

To tour the Visitors' Center of this historic site was sobering. We struggled to fit my little family of 6 comfortably into a cabin erected in the center that would have been for twice that many people. My children giggled over their struggle to pull a handcart over some rocks. It was funny, but also revealing.

We briefly toured the cemetery and memorial outside the visitors' center. There were so many babies listed on that plaque. So many mothers. And now, that consecrated ground is shadowed by this...

The place where my faith teaches we can unite families beyond death.

Seems fitting.

Bear With Me..

I just got back from a 10 day vacation and I have a whole lotta traveling stories to purge..I mean journal. We traveled over 1200 miles so there's a lot of ground to cover. I think I'll shoot for one story every day until I make myself so sick of rehashing that I can let it go. But while the memories are fresh...

We decided to make the long trek to Des Moines, IA to visit the in-laws this year by car instead of plane. I had this brilliant idea that this would be a great chance to stop and visit all the wonderful church history sites between Salt Lake and Nauvoo. I failed to recognize that this "brilliant" plan meant 5 of the 10 days of our vacation would include a large amount of time in the car. Still, I decided to make the best of things by breaking up the trip a little. Which is what led us to...

The "Great River Road Archway Monument!"

This is a museum in Kearney, Nebraska built directly over I-80 that is dedicated to all eras of western migration. When you enter, the staff dressed in period costumes direct you up a long escalator to start your "tour." You wear headsets that play repeating broadcasts that change as you move throughout the rooms. What you hear depends on what mannequin display you happen to be standing near.

It was noisy, hokey, and mildly informative. I loved every second! This is classic Americana at its finest...Disneyland, eat your heart out!

Zachary cried when we had to leave.

So if you ever find yourself in "middle of nowhere," Nebraska. Don't let the chance to visit this little gem pass you by. It was worth every single penny!

It Turns Out I'm Not Getting More Patient

I've posted a lot in the last year about the changes in my home life as my children are growing up. It's strange how quickly and suddenly you can find yourself worrying more about your children's Internet habits than their toilet habits.

So as I get ready to embark on an empty household in September, I have found myself feeling older and wiser--one of those moms with sage advice for women still dealing with preschoolers and potty-training. I'm feeling more calm and patient every day.

And then I took the kids back to school shopping.

By myself.

All 4 of them.

At the same time.

I guess it's been a while since I went anywhere by myself with all of my offspring because I was caught completely by surprise when after 14 minutes of shopping I was ready to abandon every last one of them. Seriously. I looked in my purse to see if I had any paper with which to make "child for sale" signs. I could only come up with a crayon and a gum-wrapper. Dang.

Now just the day before I watched some poor lady at the grocery store wrestling 3 little boys...one was crying, one was fighting, and one was attempting to set the deli on fire. I chuckled to myself about boy how glad I am those days are behind me. Then I patted the 1 child who was with me and told them since they were being so good, the could pick out a candy bar.

I guess some people can humble themselves; I, on the other hand, much prefer being compelled to be humble.

So after 5 hours, 4 stores, 2 potty breaks (I guess you never really get a break from their toilet habits after all), and $450 we are nearly done. No one got a candy bar, although I did hear Zachary at one point telling his siblings to "act like little angels" in the next store in hopes of a reward. Alas, they misinterpreted his well-intentioned speech and behaved exactly like little angels of darkness.

So much for all my smug thoughts that I was really learning to be a more patient, careful, soft-spoken, and compassionate mother. I wonder if there were any moms of older children watching my spontaneously combustible family and chuckling to themselves about how they remember those days. If so, they better watch out. Karma is not a patient lady either.

How To Host A Family Reunion

Step 1: Choosing When to have the Family Reunion

Start looking for a date that will work for everyone in January.

In February, when only one person has gotten back to you about summer dates, send 143 emails and phone messages to pin down the rest of the family.

In March, just give up on some of these people ever getting back to you and go ahead and set a date.

Tell everyone the dates and location and give them 24 hours to respond before the site gets booked and paid for.

Now they will all get back to you.

Make another 487 phone calls and discover that your family is just way too busy for this to ever work.

Pick a date anyway.

Be prepared to hear a lot of moaning and complaining about this not being a convenient time. Ignore it and move to step 2.

Step 2: Pick a location

Camping sounds fun...fresh air, beautiful surroundings, communing with nature....$9 a person.

Internet search for group sites and choose one that will accomodate 23 people, 7 cars, is less than 30 minutes away from modern conveniences, has plumbed bathrooms, a firepit and is breath-takingly beautiful.

Do this all site unseen and cross your fingers that what looks good online looks good in person.


Phew!!

Step 3: Make assignments

Assign each family 1 meal and 1 activity. Be prepared for more complaining about convenience. Just smile and hold firm.

The food will be wonderful. Every family will pull out all the stops, and you will eat until you are sick. And as an added bonus, on your night for cooking your brother turns out to be a "foil dinner" control freak and will take over all of the work to make sure it gets done "right." Sit back, relax and eat up.

Step 4: Gather the family

If they're all gathering at your house...here's a piece of advice. Don't waste your time cleaning up before they get there.

Step 5: Pack

Set aside at least 12 hours for this step. Pack and load everything it might be conceivable you will need. After 12 hours, discover you need at least 3 more. Give up and just throw everything in the back of somebody's vehicle. Get up to camp and discover 14 things you forgot. Congratulate yourself for choosing a site only 10 miles from home.

Step 6: Set up Camp

2 schools of thought on this:
Method 1-Work together as a family...discover you may have too many chiefs and not enough Indians...after a little dysfunctional fun, manage to get a tent up and sleeping bags unrolled.

Method 2-Help unload all the gear to the site, put one person in charge, send everyone else on a hike.



Step 7: Social Director

Discover that everyone expects you to have every minute of this trip planned.

Go for hikes. (Drag your 60-year-old father up the side of a mountain to view a hidden alpine lake)

Plan easier hikes for the younger set. Drag them up a series of switchbacks to see another hidden alpine lake.
Prepare some campfire activities.

Set up crafts for the restless natives.

Bring lots of games and firewood. Lay in a supply of not-too-scary ghost stories.

Have a wonderful time! Come home and spend 3 weeks unearthing your demolished home and digging out from a mountain of laundry. Vow that next time someone else will be in charge.

Where I've Been and What I've Been Doing

Tie-dyed 65 first-graders' t-shirts...check.

Helped out in 3 field days...check, check and check.

Dragged my sixth-grader to the end-of-the-year finish line..complete with a successful country report...just barely.

Present and accounted for at said sixth-grader's awards assembly...check...sniff.

Welcomed all 23 members of my family into my home over the 4th of July weekend...check.

Fireworks in Provo...totally overrated, but check.

Cousin's baby's blessing...whoops...but I did make it for the potluck afterwards.

Spearheaded Frey Family reunion at campgrounds in Tanners Flat...check...worth every filthy piece of laundry!

Attended last day and night of Girls' Camp...check...although I think the term "camp" is being thrown around pretty loosely here.

Home, showered, packed and on a flight to Monterey, CA...check.

Attended wedding of high school friend, Jon Pabico...check...thanks for the mini high-school reunion, Jon!

Flew home from Monterey...flight cancelled.

Unplanned drive to San Francisco Airport...check.

Flew home from San Francisco...check...it was touch and go there at the end.

Welcomed both my sisters and their families to my house...check.

Started overwhelming task of digging out my house...check.

Emotional meltdown...check, check and check.

Cub Scout Day Camp...tomorrow and the next day.

Youth Conference...Thursday through Saturday.

Prepared mini-class for Youth Conference...yeah, right.

Relaxed and enjoyed summer "vacation".........................

When I Was Your Age

We spent a few hours working in our backyard this weekend. We didn't run out of work. In fact, we are likely less than 1/4 of our way through weeding alone. We didn't run out of time. It was the one and only Saturday of our entire summer that isn't already planned. We just ran out of room in the garbage can.

We also did not run out of character-building, back-breaking, whine-inducing labor for our children. Oh, how I love to torture them. And to make the time go faster, I found myself telling them, "when I was your age stories." You know the type...walked uphill 5 miles to school, was expected to be seen and not heard...your basic childhood fables. Imagine my surprise in discovering that I had actual real-life memories for the respective ages of all four of my children! Boy did that make me feel old. So I tried to choose my most vivid memory from each of their ages. This is what I came up with.

When I was 5 years old, I couldn't wait for my very first show and tell in Mrs. Ringer's a.m. Kindergarten class. Although I was painfully shy (I swear this part is not fabricated. Ask my parents if you don't believe me.) I eagerly anticipated the chance to show the Indian-head penny that my grandfather had given to me. In our class, on show and tell day, you put your items on the show and tell table at the beginning of the day. Then, in the afternoon, after naptime...(again I'm serious...I can't believe they took this out of the Kindergarten curriculum) our teacher would call children up one at a time to take their item from the table and share it with the class. As the grand event approached, I shyly (seriously!) raised my hand and waited my turn. Mrs. Ringer called on one child and then another and then another. Finally she called on a little boy who found his way to the show and tell table and then dawdled there for several minutes, fingering this item and that. Finally, after some coaxing from the teacher, he picked up my Indian-head penny, marched to the front of the class and told everyone some fascinating story about his penny! I was filled with rage and disappointment, but when Mrs. Ringer asked me if I had something to share, I was too submissive and quiet to stand up for myself, so with tears in my eyes, I told her no. At the end of the day, I picked up my penny and took it home, so at least the villain of the lie didn't go so far as to steal my penny...just my moment. And for nearly 30 years, that little boy got away with it...but today I will finally take back my right and name names. That's right, Aaron McClelland, I know who you are! And by the way, your show and tell story was so obviously contrived...you weren't fooling anyone!

When I was 7 years old we went to visit my cousins in Utah for the summer. I have a cousin who is exactly a month older than me, and although we were always good buddies when we saw each other, there was an edge of competition that tainted our every interaction. The first day at his house, we went outside where he grabbed his bike ready to ride the half block to his grandparents' home. He asked me if I wanted to go with him. I told him I didn't have a bike. He told me I could ride his sister's bike, and then in what I interpreted was a taunting manner asked, "You know how to ride a two-wheeler don't you?" Ooh, the challenge in his tone! Well of course I told him I could ride a bike...never mind the fact that I had never up until that moment been able to ride a two-wheeler in my life. He was NOT getting the best of me. He wheeled the bike around, I climbed on...and took off down the road with an air of nonchalance...even boredom. I guess I can pinpoint my competitive streak and stubborn nature to this exchange. I rode bikes with him that whole week. The only down side was that I never got to show off to my parents, "hey, look, guys! I'm riding a bike!" because such a display would undermine my whole triumph.

When I was 9 years old, I saved the quarter my mom put into my lunch for milk money every day. Then at the end of the week when I had 5 quarters, I would walk down to the 7-11 at the end of our street and use my $1.25 to buy 3 candy bars. I don't know what part of this memory is the most disturbing...the fact that I basically stole money from my parents every day or that I walked down a busy street to a convenience store completely by myself at the age of 9.

When I was 12 years old, my mom picked me up from school early on my birthday. As a surprise, she drove me to a beauty salon to get my ears pierced. The lady at the shop showed me a basket of different stud earrings to choose from for the piercing, and I really wanted the diamond ones. However, my older sister had gotten diamond earrings when she had her ears pierced and I knew that she would somehow lord it over me if I chose them. Besides, at this age I hated having the same things as everyone else around me...I wanted my own thing...so instead I just grabbed a random pair out of the basket. They turned out to be topaz which I hated. I didn't like orange at all, but for the next 6 weeks, I wore them and swore to anyone who might question my selection how much I loved topaz. The day I could change my earrings for the first time, I took the topaz studs out and never wore them again. As I remember this, I can't really verbalize my reasoning for this life choice...I just sense that there was a feeling of self-sacrifice implicit in it somehow. Weird, huh?

Anyway, for what their worth, the stories got us through 2 hours of weeding. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my college textbook on psychoanalysis. It appears I'm completely neurotic.

Ragnar Repeat

I don't have any pictures to post of our relay race yet, but just wanted to shout out to the blogosphere that I survived and had a great time despite the fact that my definition of "fun" includes 12 people running for 30 hours straight.

Here are my personal stats.

Leg 5-7.4 miles up Avon Pass. Hot. Dusty. Dirt road staight uphill. 1 hour 19 minutes.

Leg 17-4.4 miles. Gradual incline. Beautiful outskirts of Morgan. Rolling fields. Cooler early evening air. Every step I've taken this day has been uphill. What's the deal? 41 minutes exactly.

3 hours of sleep.

Leg 28-3.8 miles. 6-ish in the morning. Cool storm-clouds ahead. Had to swap an injured runner. Wasn't planning on this one. First 2 1/2 miles straight down mountain at Jordanelle. 8% grade. Pound. Pound. Pound. 32 minutes, 20 seconds.

Hurt everywhere. Loved every second.

Home. Showered. 13 hours of sleep. Not running again for a week.

The Wall

My husband has been working 18 hour days for the last 4 weeks. This usually means he gets home after I am asleep and leaves again before I am awake or while I am out running in the morning. I pretend he's out of town, but the illusion is hard to stick to when I'm still doing his laundry and cleaning up his breakfast. He is finishing up his trial this week so hopefully by the weekend he will exist in our lives again, but for now I am officially finished with this whole single mom business.

I should probably be feeling more compassion for my poor husband. After all, he's working horrible hours including every weekend for the past month. I should definitely have more respect for women around the world who are single mothers for every day of their lives. At the very least, I should be more understanding of my children who are desperately missing their daddy. But yesterday I finally hit the wall. So although I know I should buck up and count my blessings, I'm giving myself the next 2 hours (and 2 minutes) to wallow in my own self-pity. That's how much longer Anna's friends will be here playing with her and filling her social needs. Then it's back to the "All Mom, All the Time, Variety Hour."

The months of May and June have been overflowing with "extras" in school, sports, piano, dance and my Young Women's calling. I have been the taxi, cheerleader, coach, whip-cracker, teacher, CEO, and nurse. It feels like there is nothing left of me to give, but I know that in 1 hour and 54 minutes, I have to put my smile back on and head out to the store to pick up the eclairs for Zachary's oral report on France, the cleats for Noah's track meet, the groceries, snacks for field day, a prescription, presents for two birthday parties, and something for Father's Day not only for my husband, but for my dad and my father-in-law. And when I get back I get to look forward to yet another afternoon and evening of getting kids where kids need to be, motivating (translation yelling at) them to get their homework and chores done, getting them fed and in bed at a reasonable hour without any hope of assistance or even grown-up conversation.

It will all be fine. I know this because it always has worked out before, but knowing this doesn't make the moment of the trial any easier. In 1 hour and 46 minutes I will wipe away my tears and put on a cheerful face and will acknowledge all the ways my Father in Heaven has blessed me today and every day of these challenging weeks. But for now I will count down the minutes left until this weekend when I get to "escape" for 24 hours in a 180-mile relay race. To many, my whole running obsession probably seems like a lot of hard work. This motherhood business is much, much harder. Today I say: Give me a marathon! 1 hour and 37 minutes to go.

Worry Bird

Here's Anna's recital for Grandma to watch. She's the worry bird on the far right. She's a natural performer. The closer we got to the stage, the more excited she became.

Missy Banana

I find it surreal that my youngest child is now officially 5 years old. I still truly think of myself as a young mother. I've had so many years of carting around toddlers , that it's strange to believe that stage of my life is behind me now. But it's true. Anna officially became a "big girl" on Wednesday. She had a magical day, and said to me as we were getting ready for bed that night, "Birthdays are fun because you just are happy and no one is mean."

In the morning we made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Then she went to play at a friend's house while I did the birthday shopping. (Procastinate? Who me?) Then I picked her up and took her out to lunch at the Burger King with the big playground. We came home and made cupcakes. She had performed her ballet recital the night before as a "worry bird" and wanted a worry bird cake. This is what I came up with:

And this is the actual costume:

The resemblance is uncanny isn't it?

We went out for "cheese pizza" with the boys, and met up with Daddy at the pool. She really wanted to go to our neighborhood pool, but it was raining, so we went to an indoor one instead. Frankly, I think we made a good trade...this pool was way more fun, with slides and sprayers and the works.

We came home and ate cupcakes and ice cream, opened presents, and Anna as a "surprise" put her worry bird costume on again. She's been wearing it pretty much non-stop for the past 72 hours. I thought this was cute at first until I started picking up feathers and glitter. Apparently it's molting season. I would estimate I've picked up 7,239 feather in the past two days...on the conservative side.

And though I feel a little melancholy about losing my baby to school in the fall, I really am looking forward to this new stage. She is such a joy at home with me. She is so affectionate and interested, but she is ready to go to school now. She is getting old enough to stick with me on the side of estrogen. It's nice to know she's getting old enough to "get my back."

Happy birthday, girlfriend!

All Girl

I learned something profound at Preschool graduation this week. Are you ready? Boys and girls are different!

Okay, so I realize no one is about to call the newspapers or anything, but I'll tell you what inspired this particular insight.

At the end of Preschool graduation, all the moms and kids gathered to watch a video of pictures taken throughout the year. Anna and her friends enjoyed this as only preschoolers can...I don't know of any other age group who loves seeing pictures of themselves more. After the movie was over, Anna suddenly erupted into tears. I held her and asked her what was wrong, she responded, "That movie made me feel sad inside."

To be honest, the movie made me feel pretty sad inside too. My baby is headed for Kindergarten. But it surprised me how she picked up on this bittersweet thing we call change at such a young age. Especially when I compare this experience with her brothers.

The thought of them crying over a photo montage at the age of 4 is downright laughable.

Now the outcome of a Diamondbacks game is another matter entirely.

The Element of Suprise

Since my kids were little I've had big dreams...BIG dreams about what I was going to do when they turned 12. It seems like such a big important age, but our society is lacking in coming of age traditions...so we decided to invent one of our own...the surprise trip.

We decided that Dad would "kidnap" the birthday boy...or eventually girl..and take them somewhere great...just the two of them. We would tailor the trip around the child's interests, and make a great memory. Dad-bonding with a 12-year-old is pretty high on my list of priorities.

So last Saturday we got to participate in covert ops 101 as we very sneakily planned and executed Zachary's special trip. He's obsessed with sports, so some kind of game was a requirement in the plan. After checking baseball schedules and seating options, we settled on a Saturday Night game at the San Diego Padres stadium. We got fabulous tickets. Then we booked a morning flight and decided to leave the day-time activity up to the boy. Dad would give him his options during the flight, and they would head directly wherever he wanted to go once they landed.

Here's where it gets fun. We woke him up early on Saturday morning...he was exceedingly grouchy. He complained that Saturday is the only day he ever gets to sleep in! (tee-hee!) While he was eating breakfast, I sneaked into his room and packed his things. We told him he was going somewhere special with Dad for his birthday. Aunt Kim showed up and loaded the passengers for the airport. Then they were off!

En route, Zachary settled on Legoland for the day. So Dad and son had a full day at the park, ate dinner, and headed into town for the game in the evening. It went 16 innings! Definitely got our money's worth on those tickets. They settled into a hotel LATE that night, slept in the next morning (see Zachary...I've got your back) and flew home in the afternoon.

As they were sitting at the airport waiting to fly home, Zachary shyly hugged his dad and said, "Thanks Dad, this was fun." Mission accomplished!

I have only two regrets. 1-I forgot to send a camera with them, and 2-We'll never have that same shock factor with our other kiddos.

Deacon

Could I possibly be old enough to have a 12-year-old child?

I swear it was just a couple of years ago that I headed to the hospital, waddling in on swollen ankles. I even remember watching the Jazz play Portland that night in the NBA playoffs. That was especially sensitive of my husband to turn the TV to something that would help distract me from the pain of labor.

But here I am with a nearly teenager,...and the Jazz got knocked out of the playoffs in the first round this year. This means an initiation into Mutual night, Scout Camp, and Priesthood responsibilities. It's exciting and intimidating.

He is such a good boy. He is setting a wonderful example for his brothers. I love this uninhibited, brilliant, intense, funny, odd little boy...oops young man!

Oven Ready

I hope all of you mothers had a wonderful day yesterday filled with gratitude for your special role, and appreciation for the women who have influenced your life.

I had a nice day too. I want to establish that from the very beginning because the story I'm about to tell could easily be construed as complaining. I'm not complaining; it's just one of those moments in life that begs to be recorded.

"Once upon a time there was a mom of four children. She adored them all, and learned from them many valuable lessons about patience, charity, and cleaning up bodily fluids. She also had a loving husband who was a generous provider and a good father. They lived a happy life, only occasionally marred by the fact that in a household of six different individuals, chances are there is always at least one family member crying, moping, or making a mess.

Now once a year, this family set aside one day to celebrate and give thanks to this mom for all of her sacrifices and love. It was a good tradition filled with charming, child-made cards, dandelion bouquets, breakfast in bed and a reprieve from all chores. And there was dinner. What these dinners lacked in execution was usually made up for in enthusiasm. And although, sometimes there was a lapse in planning and preparation, the husband and the four children always managed to get a decent meal to the table eventually.

Then one year, this family got word that the special day that had been set aside would fall on a Fast Sunday. This meant any plans for breakfast in bed were scrapped. Not to fear...they would prepare an even more ambitious dinner that evening instead. They would make lasagna. The mom loved this dish and looked forward to sharing this special meal with her family.

After church, the family kindly sent their mom upstairs to take a nap and got to work on dinner. She gave Dad careful instructions about the procedure and recipe. He only ran into one problem. The only pasta he found in the house was labeled, "oven ready." His wife understood that oven ready noodles take a longer time in the oven and since it was a hot day, and they were all hungry from skipping two meals already she suggested he go ahead and boil them. Especially since Dad was not particularly fond of the results of oven cooked noodles anyway.

Then she cheerfully went off to bed where she curled up with a book and a delighted cat.

An hour and a half later, she emerged downstairs groggy and hungry. Her husband assured her dinner would be ready soon. He then proceeded to check the oven. He expressed concern that it didn't look right. Mom suggested that he remove the foil and let the casserole bake uncovered long enough to melt the cheese on top. He did this, and again expressed concern that it didn't look right.

With some anxiety, Mom came to check it out. The noodles on the top were rigid and crunchy. She asked her husband, "did you cook the noodles?"

He responded, "No, they're 'oven ready.'"

A note of panic crept into her voice, "So did you add water to the sauce and cover the pan with a double layer of foil?"

"You never told me to do that."

"But I did tell you to cook the noodles, right?"

The hungry mother could see this was going nowhere. She poured a cup of water over the entire dish, covered it tightly and put it back in the oven for 45 minutes. Even though she was starving, she was not unaware of the humor of the situation. So she spent the next 45 minutes laughing and crying at the same time. She had little faith that the remedy would save the dish, and was beginning to suggest back-up meals. But lo and behold, it worked...sort of. They only had to sacrifice one noodle.

After she ate and was restored to herself she couldn't help but say to her husband, "You do realize that we will talk about this meal on every Mother's Day from now until forever?"

I've Been Sprung

Spring has arrived in our backyard! Finally!

It's actually pretty unreasonable how much the weather affects my mood.

Quick Update

My kids have once again been off-track which has resulted in an absence from my blog (not to mention, my sanity). I spent the first week with family visiting here and the second week with the kids at my parent's home in Sparks, Nevada. I'm not wholly recuperated, but the kids went back to school today and I think I just might finally get to putting away the pack and play that has been set up in my basement for more than two weeks.

Zachary is preparing to turn 12 next week and could not be more excited. I'm excited too, as well as petrified...and feeling pretty old. We have made the decision to send him to an accelerated junior high school next fall. He is a little nervous about this, but has been won over to the school by the fact that they offer an elective called: Sports Literature. He has been really improving in his piano, and received a superior rating at Festival a few weeks ago.

Noah makes me laugh every day lately by his unique approach to life, the universe, and everything. He walks the dog every day with his eyes closed...literally...he walks down the street totally blind...haven't quite figured that one out yet. He is obsessed with books, especially fantasy series and can't get through a sentence without referring to something he has read. And he has taken on the role as Isaac's private baseball coach. He follows him up and down the field during games yelling out helpful suggestions like, "gunfighter position!" and "crocodile!" Then he races to bring him his bat and batting helmet when it's time. He's like a mixture between a boxing coach and a caddy. He also received superior ratings on his Festival piano pieces.

Isaac was so excited for his first baseball game that he was awake and dressed down to his cleats by 7:00 a.m...only 9 and 1/2 hours before the game. And then it was rained out. He has been living essentially outdoors ever since the weather finally turned warm. He marches up and down the levels of the yard, endlessly dreaming up imaginary activities.

Anna keeps me company with her sweet cuddling and keeps me laughing with her sassy speech. She told her aunt that the best way to get something you want, is to wait a little before Easter and then say it out loud because the Easter bunny can hear you. "Because, I said I wanted flip-flops and the Easter Bunny bringed them to my house!" She is preparing to perform in all her diva glory as a "worry bird" in her dance school's production of "The Wizard of Oz."

Existentialism: If we don't take family photos, do we cease to exist as a family?

I think a posting on the process of taking family portraits has become the most ubiquitous entry in all of the blogosphere, and yet I feel compelled to add my own take on this bizarre ritual. Last year I gave the family a reprieve from the process; I just couldn't dig up the energy to fight. So I thought it would be easier this year since a. everyone in the family is now officially past the stage where they need a regular nap; b. they all understand basic directions given in English; c. the scars from previous photography traumas are distant enough to be faded almost out of memory; and d. because I said so.

In the end, we all got through the experience in one piece (more or less) and even managed to come away with a decent group shot. (It only took 119 frames, but we got it.) But every time I walk past our photo wall, I find myself wanting to yell, "Liars! Look at you smiling there! You look like such a happy, loving family, but I was there, remember! NONE of you were happy that day! NONE of you were loving!" But I keep my ranting on the inside. I just move on and remind myself that outside of photo studios we are a pretty happy and functional family.

Ah, remember the days when family pictures meant dealing with just these two. I remember actually getting stressed, STRESSED about what on earth we could wear. Ha! Those were the days.

Then a couple years into this whole family experiment we picked up this guy. And somewhere around his 5th year, he decided he no longer knew how to smile naturally. We tried interventions and counseling to no avail. We're stuck with the forced and cheesy smile from now until puberty wipes all smiling from his repertoire completely.

Then this guy came along...our most photogenic experiment of the bunch. And he hit third grade and decided to be known as "the boy who never smiles." Look closely, there's something a little scary about his eyes.

This one looks like a kidnapping victim trying to communicate his distress without drawing attention from his captor. Doesn't his face just scream, "help me?" And that grimace, I mean, er... smile.

Well, at least she isn't crying.

So you see what we have to work with? Now let's get them all together shall we?

Oh dear.

Nice eyebrows, Noah.

If only we could bottle Zachary's enthusiasm and sell it.


This is disturbing on so many levels.


I fear this is the picture of the beginning of a subversive conspiracy.

Oh my.

It seems like I'm posting a lot of pictures, but I have at least 10 more that I could have included that I edited out. They're even more amusing when I zoom in for a close-up.

Oh well, let's try just the boys.

On second thought, where are the girls?


Did I mention that I have 119 frames?

Phew! I feel better just getting this all out in the open. Now you all know the real story behind our carefully composed wall art. I now feel more genuine in offering a glimpse of this:

Ahhh, thanks for letting me get that purged from my system; I feel so much more honest now. I think maybe we'll wait to do family pictures again for a while--maybe when Zachary gets married.